Coming Home
by Ludi
Summary: Rogue and Remy finally give into their desires on Paraiso Island. This story fills in the gaps between the water scene and the pillow talk scene in 'Rogue & Gambit' #3. Smut!fic. Prompt fill. One shot.


**Disclaimer:** Rogue and Gambit belong to Marvel, not to me.  
 **Warnings:** Sex and smut galore. Strong language.  
 **Author notes:** Originally posted on Tumblr in response to (several) prompts. It's set between the water scene and the pillow talk scene in _Rogue & Gambit_ #3 (2018).  
 **The Prompt:** "oh my god can you PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE put out a quick (smutty) one-shot filling in the gaps between the confessions scene by the water and their pillow talk?"

* * *

 **Coming Home**

They were both used to it – enforced restraint in the face of tortured promises, the kind made up of naked flesh and undulating bodies, ones that could never be fulfilled.

Throughout all the years they'd known each other, the no-touch thing had become a metaphor for everything thing else that had driven them apart, the fears and regrets and resentments they'd never been able to get past.

But here? In Paraiso?

All those things seemed so small, so insignificant, and so easily surmountable. Had they really spent so long nursing these faded bruises they'd inflicted on one another? Had they really wasted so much time? All it had taken was words, was honesty – and suddenly all the scars had gone. The only barrier left was touch.

And now that _that_ was gone, they were ready for it; they wanted it.

Remy surged out of the water and crushed his mouth against hers, hungry for her kiss in a way he hadn't been in years. And Rogue? For her it was as if her words had been a magical incantation to ward off fear – she had never felt so light or unburdened, so free of everything that had ever held her back… … And suddenly kissing him felt like the most natural thing in the world, a want so simple she didn't understand why she'd denied herself for so long.

Her arms slid slowly over his shoulders, pulling him closer, kissing him deeper… And his response… The way his hands slipped in behind her back, around her waist, as if daring her to break away… It was still the most sublime revelation to know that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

When was the last time she'd kissed him? Why did it seem such a long, lonely time ago?

They didn't stop until they had no more breath to possibly carry on; and even when they finally pulled apart, it was only by mere inches. In the glorious haze that remained, there wasn't a single thing that existed for either one of them except the other.

"My God," she murmured, running her gaze ravenously over his lips. "I ain't had so this much fun kissin' someone since the last time I got a static charge when we touched."

He laughed softly, a heady sound that only at that moment did she realise she'd missed.

"That was years ago, Rogue," he returned in a low voice, rubbing his nose affectionately against her cheek, the electric tingle sending shivers down her spine.

"Guess I've forgotten what I was missin' all these years," she whispered, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Well, if it's time ya wanna make up for," he began sultrily, brushing his lips against her own, "then we have all vacation, chere." He nipped her bottom lip slowly, seductively, adding: "I'm all yours."

The words were hot, a promise that couldn't go unfulfilled. His mouth had already covered hers again, and nothing else mattered, _nothing_ was as important as this; she couldn't remember _why_ she'd ever thought _anything_ else could take precedence, and… …

Her fingers clutched tighter in his hair, the spike of pain bringing a momentary hitch to his breath that she ate up like it was the most delicious thing. His skin was so much more intoxicating that she'd ever remembered – sea-damp and sun-warmed, smooth and tight and tanned, and she wanted more and more and more of it… She wrapped her legs round his hips and pulled him in towards her, her mind a delirious whirl of pent-up lust that she hardly knew she'd harboured.

He pressed up against her intimately and they both shared a heady gasp. Even half an hour ago she would've said this was too much, too fast; but now her confession had set her free, had released her from the stranglehold of years of restraint. It was okay to want. It was okay to _get_.

Her fingers threaded tightly through his hair and for a few blissful moments she laid her forehead against his and listened to them breathe.

This one beautiful little island had magicked away all her fears, all her doubt, all her inadequacies, and the only thing left was the exhilarating haze of love and desire that had remained hidden beneath the miasma of her own guilt and insecurity for so long.

"Darlin'," she murmured softly, "if you're all mine, then make me yours." She wound her legs round him just a little tighter, and because she really couldn't wait another moment more, she added, "Please?"

His eyes flashed jewel-like in the sunlight, and _how could she have forgotten that look?_ Without word or pause he rose up from the water like something from another world, taking her with him with completely effortless poise.

Rogue dug her teeth into her bottom lip with anticipation as he carried her across the deck to the bungalow. Their first hurdle was the sliding doors, and Remy charged the latch, expecting the door to fly open at his touch – hell, in his current state of arousal, he wouldn't have been surprised if the damn thing had flown off its runners completely. What he got instead was the latch snapping open and the door giving a pitiful lurch sideways.

 _Not_ his finest moment.

"Uhhhh…"

He stared at the inch-wide gap and wondered what the hell had happened to his powers.

The only thing he could do was shove his shoulder up against the opening and try to wedge the thing open, which didn't work much either.

Luckily, Rogue's only complaint was impatience. Balancing herself perfectly on his hips, she reached out and shoved the door open one-handed – though it gave way with far less ease than either had expected. Ignoring the unnecessary distraction, they both literally stumbled into the room, Remy only regaining his balance as he shoved Rogue up against the glass and ate up her mouth like he'd never tasted anything so delectable.

"Wait… wait…" she managed to protest between kisses.

"What?" he muttered absently. The charge between them was delicious… like soda fizzing on his tongue… at this point there was no way she was going to escape his clutches. She'd finally worked up the courage to choose him, and _nobody_ was going to take that away from him.

"The curtains," she said, just as he sucked her lower lip into his mouth. "Close the curtains."

He let go of her lip and frowned. "Fuck the curtains," he retorted impatiently. "All you got out there is sea, ain't no one gonna be peekin' in here… …"

"But Janine and Theo might stop by," she insisted; and he pulled back slightly only to see a flush on her cheeks that showed she was being serious.

"Like I care," he murmured gruffly. "They can come watch. I'll give 'em somethin' to look at."

"Oh my Gawd, you are so—"

She didn't get to tell him what he was – he'd already grabbed her ass in his hands and had smashed her harder up against the window, thrusting against her in a way that could only be described as wanton, while he silenced her the most effective way he knew how – with his kiss.

Luckily, by the time they surfaced, curtains were the last thing on her mind.

"Lord, I want you, you dirty boy," she exclaimed breathlessly. It was enough to make him almost do a doubletake. Not because of the words, but because he couldn't remember the last time she'd said them. He couldn't even remember how many days he'd been here now, but fuck him if it wasn't shaping up to be the best vacation he'd ever had.

"Say dat again," he cajoled her with a wicked little grin. "Just for the record."

She didn't even pause.

"I want you. I. Want. _You_ ," she whispered between featherlight kisses. "Don't make me beg, sugar, or I'll think you're teasin' me."

"No teasin', chere," he murmured sincerely. "You jes' dunno how incredibly hot it is to hear you say that again after all this time."

He let that sink in for a poignant moment, before whisking her up into his arms and over to the bed. She shrieked with delight, and it was all so perfect, all so exactly how it had _used_ to be between them the first time round, when they'd thought they'd got it _right_.

The thought struck him, and he stopped at the edge of the bed, searching her face intently.

"What?" she asked him quietly, seeing the seriousness of his expression.

"Y'do know somethin' real weird is goin' on here, right?" he warned her. "Like… our powers and our minds are bein' tampered with…" He trailed off, and she ran her hands over his shoulders, said: "So? I thought you were happy…"

"I am," he answered. "Everythin' seems so clear, so uncomplicated… It's like I'm nothin' but _emotions_ … Whatever's happenin' to us is, it's makin' _this_ seem so damn simple, so obvious… …"

"But it is," she answered softly. "Until I came here I was so damn scared of lovin' you… of bein' with you… I was so confused… But you're right… Everythin' seems clear now…" She leaned in, slipping her arms back round him. "So if this is mind control… And if it strips us down t' bare emotions… Then maybe what's left is who we really are. Maybe this is who I really am." She laced her fingers behind his head and added in a whisper: "I want us t'be true to who we both are, Remy, just for once. And here it is. We have it. Let's not waste it."

There was no other assurance they needed, and they kissed, slow and deep. He set her down gently on the bed and she knelt before him, arms round his shoulders, her skin so damn smooth and warm, a half-forgotten memory from a half-buried past, reminding him of lust-fuelled days under the California sun.

His fingers found the ties of her bikini bra, and he tugged them loose, helping her shrug out of the clothing and toss it aside.

Was he dreaming?

He lowered his gaze, his heart in his mouth as he suddenly realised how long he'd been without this, how long he'd spent comparing everyone and everything to the perfection he'd found in her body, without even knowing it. His palms came up to cup her breasts, fingers skimming over her nipples and igniting a static charge that was like a rippling undercurrent beneath their flesh.

An audible breath sounded sharply in her throat, and he lifted his eyes back to hers. Her gaze was dark, sultry... encouraging. He hitched a lazy grin in reply and kissed her chin, her jaw, her throat, scoring a trail downward with his tongue before finally catching her nipple and sucking it into his mouth. Whatever this weird static was, it made every point of contact fizz and pop on his skin, and hell... He was beginning to think he could get used to this. He couldn't wait for her to touch him.

Rogue panted, her fingers fisting so tight in his hair it hurt. His touch was like firecrackers on her body, shattering the dusty haze of forgotten memory. All that remained was him and her and all the things they'd buried just to move on with their lives.

And yet they'd still never moved on. Somehow they'd just stayed exactly where they'd started, angry and bitter and still so hung up on one another. To finally give in was cathartic bliss.

His fingers pulled at the ties of her bikini bottoms and as soon as they had fallen away his hands were there, fingers sliding in between her slick folds and finding her clit.

" _F-f-fuck!_ "

The word jumped out of her mouth spontaneously, her hips bucking at the delicious contact. Her own reaction took her aback, simply because it had been ages since foreplay had felt this visceral or amazing. She no longer knew or cared whether it was time, denial, or the electricity between them that made this feel so damn _good_.

 _Probably all of the above._

And what was he doing? Just standing there with one knee on the bed, head cocked to one side, watching her with this shit-eating grin on his face, the kind that told her he was clearly enjoying this. It made her want to kiss him or slap him or bite him… or any combination thereof. But before she could make good on the impulse he was already a step ahead of her, moving to curl first one finger and then another deep up inside her, and between that and the circling pressure of his thumb on her clit, she was literally gone within a few mind-numbing seconds. She came hard and noisily, so wildly she was surprised she didn't rip the hair out his head she was holding on so fiercely.

When she came down again, even he looked stunned.

"Christ, chere," he muttered. "That was so fuckin' _hot_."

She wasted no words agreeing with him, simply yanking him down into an equally hot kiss; and while he was preoccupied with that she slipped her hands in under the back of his trunks, squeezing his butt before shucking the whole damn thing down to his thighs and taking him right into her hands.

A muffled swear sounded in his throat – muffled, since his mouth was still occupied with hers. It was so incredibly sexy and amusing to have a man like him once more in her thrall. If she was honest, there was no greater turn on than seeing him turned on, than _being_ the one to turn him on.

He was the one to break their kiss, dropping his head to her shoulder with a groan as she worked his cock effortlessly, memory and instinct telling her exactly how he liked it. With their heightened sensation of touch it wasn't long before she felt his body tense and heard his breathing become laboured; she was only half surprised when he suddenly gripped her wrist and pulled her hand away, gasping:

"Rogue, I will come in your hand if you don't stop dat right now."

She relented; but she couldn't help but chuckle evilly at the idea of making him lose it like some horny kid. When he raised his head he shot her a wounded glare, which only made her laugh even more.

"Sorry/not sorry," she grinned. "You have no idea how satisfying it is t'see Mr. Ladies-Man-LeBeau about to blow his nuts out within two minutes."

"Three at least," he groused back dolefully. "And you can laugh, but do you know when was de last time I even _had_ sex?"

"No," she pouted playfully. "And I don't wanna know. I'm willin' t'bet _this_ didn't happen when you did though," and she made the point by dancing her fingers all the way up his shaft, working the static between them in a way that somehow felt like second nature. With a strangled " _Unf!_ ", he jerked away from her, his expression making her hoot so hard that this time it was war.

"Oh p'tit, it is _so on!_ " he exclaimed, tackling her onto her back and literally tickling her into submission. Rogue wriggled and squirmed as his hands waltzed over her body, going for all the sensitive spots she'd forgotten even existed; and she could swear at this point that he was adding a kinetic charge of his own to the proceedings.

" _Stop!_ " she shrieked between breathless giggles. " _Stop!_ "

"Uh-uh," he bantered back impishly. "You gotta do better than that, chere."

"I'll… do… _anythin'_!" she gasped.

"Hm. And what exactly is 'anything', p'tit?"

"Anythin' you want!"

"Yeah? Like de handcuffs and bottle o' whiskey I hid in my luggage, huh?"

The memory of the kinky bondage drinking games they'd once indulged in almost outdid the tickle attack.

"Yes, _yes, YES!_ "

And, just like that, he stopped, making up for the loss of sensation by leaning in and kissing her fiercely, before backing away and slipping out of his trunks faster than she'd ever seen any man undress.

"The handcuffs are for later," he told her decidedly as she lay back and watched this glorious picture of manhood unfold before her eyes. "I wanna feel your hands all fuckin' over me right now."

"Sugar," she drawled impudently, hamming up the Southern drawl for maximum effect, "what makes ya think I _wouldn't_ have my hands all over you? Are you implyin' _I'm_ the one who's gonna end up handcuffed?"

"That's exactly what I'm implyin'," he murmured, coming back over towards her on all fours, "B'cause you, _mon 'tit choux,_ still ain't worked out a way t'beat me at poker."

"I might've learned a few tricks the past few years," she teased sultrily as he was finally above her, arms braced either side of her head. She licked her bottom lip, ran her fingers all the way up his torso and added: "Say what you will 'bout the Cap, but he plays a mean game o' cards… Those guys played _dirty_ back in the day, I tell ya."

"Oh yeah?" He lowered his face to hers, kissed her voluptuously, before saying: "If dirty's the way you like it, beb, ain't no one plays dirtier than me."

"Mmmm-hmmm."

It sounded like a promise of things to come, and so she shut up and let him lock lips with her again, this time slow enough to savour, guiding them into a more laidback pace. She allowed herself to bask in it, this newly rediscovered flavour of pleasure, awakened by the delectable trails his mouth left on her body. When he backed away it was only to put his hands on her, his fingers tracing every line and curve of her with a tenderness that was almost reverent. His eyes followed the meanderings of his fingers, across the line of her collarbone and up the peaks of her breasts, down the plane of her ribcage and lower, watching on with a kind of fascination as he raked just the tips of his fingers slowly down her abdomen. It felt like sparks were literally coming off the points where their flesh intersected – she gasped, her muscles twitching and balking as he scored his trail over this sensitive part of her body, almost as if she was an instrument he knew how to play instinctively – no matter that he was so out of practice. She was beautiful and made to be worshipped in ways man hadn't even yet devised.

"God, I'd forgotten how you look," he couldn't help but muse on a breath. "Memory ain't got nothin' on reality, chere. Not a thing."

He placed his hands gently on her knees and prised her legs apart slowly. Somehow he remembered to breathe, because all of a sudden his stomach was lurching and his heart was racing like he was an inexperienced pup all over again.

He wet his lips because his mouth was suddenly and genuinely completely dry.

"I am so gonna nail you to this fuckin' bed," he said, the words coming out slurred with desire.

"Oh really?" She gave a half-playful, half-come-hither smile, and lifted a leg seductively up against his hip. His hopes were dashed when, contrary to expectation, she planted a foot squarely on his abdomen and slowly began to lever him away from her and up into a kneeling position. "I so hate to remind you, swamp rat, but it's _my_ turn to top."

He grabbed her foot with both hands and frowned at her.

"What? We playin' dis game again, Rogue? I thought we gave it up."

"Nuh-uh." She grinned and dug her toes into his abs – an impromptu but not unpleasant massage. "I never agreed to give up on it. We take it in turns, remember? It's _my_ turn."

"It is not."

"Is so!"

She kicked him away from her playfully, slipping out from under him and onto her feet. He was partially amused, partially annoyed when she began to back away towards the windows.

"You," she ordered him peremptorily. "Get on your back."

He rolled his eyes, mostly for dramatic effect – he couldn't help a smile breaking the irritated mask. Chucking the excess of decorative cushions off the bed (and accidentally knocking his new pack of cards off the side table), he stacked her pillow on top of his own and lay back, hands cushioning his head, watching on with that same cynical amusement as she snapped the window blinds shut.

It was an age since he'd seen her stark naked. God, she was beautiful. All long legs and creamy curves he could literally get lost in. If she wanted to take the helm, he wasn't going to complain – he was quite prepared to sit back and enjoy the ride.

"I got us covered on the protection front," he offered as she finally turned back to him. "Check my wallet."

The statement brought a mischievous smile to her lips.

"Awww. Says the responsible sex ed teacher."

"Hey." He pouted at her. "Gotta practice what I preach."

She chuckled as she finally came back over.

"You got yourself checked?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Always do, chere."

"Then as long as you're clean, we're fine. I'm on protection."

He didn't quite know how to interpret that sentence, and it must've showed on his face because she snickered.

"Don't worry," she reassured him slyly, kneeling beside him on the mattress. "I ain't puttin' myself out there. I just never came off, after we kinda-sorta-maybe broke up."

"Ha." He gave her a sceptical look that came across as slightly resentful. "Don't'cha mean after we stopped bein' able to have sex? 'Cos technically we 'kinda-sorta-maybe' broke up way after _that_ was out the window."

"Somethin' like that," she murmured, her finger circling his left nipple. He was so fucking sensitive that the unexpected touch almost made him choke. What came out instead was a strangled noise that immediately brought her eyes to his and coaxed out an audacious little grin.

"Mmm, I love it when you moan," she crooned sexily. "More, please, Cajun."

He'd forgotten just what a tease she could really be – it was getting increasingly difficult not to hurry this along and just screw her into some sort of existential oblivion.

"Yeah, well," he began, looking her over from head to toe with unabashed hunger, "a li'l less talk and a li'l more play, and I will be happy to oblige you all you want."

She laughed, rich and husky, straddling him with those long, gorgeous legs and shaking her still-damp hair out over her shoulders. At this point he had to unpillow his arms from behind his head, because he couldn't resist filling his hands with her delicious curves, literally reclaiming all the ground he'd lost.

"I'm gonna enjoy handcuffing you to this bed later," she lilted sweetly at him, a threat that came out more like a promise. Just to add a little bite to the imagination, she rolled her hips into him, rubbing up against his erection with a rhythm that made them both hiss with pleasure.

"Like hell you're gonna get ta," he ground out, slapping her ass roughly.

"You're just sore cos it's _my_ turn to top."

"Chere," he replied seriously, managing to get a quick kiss in mid-sentence. "The last time we had sex _neither_ of us was on top."

She paused, frowning, and he gripped a fistful of her hair and pulled her down towards him, putting his mouth under her ear and whispering hotly: "Valle Soleado. In bed. The mornin' we left. On our sides. From behind. I don't forget anythin', and I sure as hell ain't forgotten _that_."

He bit into her neck, making her whimper out loud, before licking and kissing it better lavishly.

"That was a soft reset, sugar," she replied, running her lips lightly against the stubble on his cheek. "And I'm startin' up version 2.0."

"Yeah, you go restart if ya wanna, Rogue. I give us, what, 3 rounds before we give up this dumb game and fuck each other however the hell we please, in all sorts of dirty, wicked, sinful ways."

She loved it when he started talking like this – it never failed to take her breath away.

"Really?" She smirked and shifted a little, just enough to reach back and find his cock. "I give us two."

She rubbed the head of him up between her slick folds, relishing the deep rumble that sounded in his throat as much as the intimacy of their touch.

"Mmmm, you like that?" she teased him voluptuously.

"I like just about anythin' you do t'me, Rogue," he drawled back, entranced.

"Oh really? And how 'bout this?"

She nudged him gently inside her, and _my God_ , the electricity between them was like a humming power surge as he sank into her with a slowness that was almost torture.

Remy bit down sharply on an inhalation, dragged it out again slowly. He'd had his kicks experimenting with all sorts in his time, but he'd never experienced anything like this.

"Jesus... fuckin'... _Christ,_ chere."

The words were strained, literally dragged out of him as he was finally as deep inside her as he could go. He found himself grabbing hard onto her hips in a desperate attempt to contain himself – he didn't care if he left bruises. She felt so fucking good he didn't know how long he could last.

Rogue was breathing noisily, choppily, above him, her cheeks flushed and her lips plumped up in the most glorious expression of near-bliss he'd ever seen. She placed her hands on his abs and pushed herself into a sitting position, flicked her hair back luxuriously over her shoulders, giving him a tantalising view of her considerable charms. The sensual display was topped off with a slow and rhythmic circular motion of the hips that brought a groan of agonised pleasure to his throat. Her own moan was soft and somehow melodic, erotic enough to almost knock him right off the edge. For once he was left struggling with how to pace himself.

"Gawd, I've missed ya," she declared deliriously, chin raised and eyes closed as if in prayer. " _So. Damn. Much_."

He could barely think, let alone speak. He slid his palms all the way up from her hips to her shoulder blades, pulling her in closer.

"Oh, chere, you have no fuckin' idea," he growled passionately. "All the pointless, unsatisfying lays… The nights spent alone cravin' you… All the women who could never compare… I thought I'd moved on, p'tit, but hell… A part of me never fuckin' did."

He hooked his left arm round her waist, dug his heels into the mattress, and thrust up so deep and hard inside her that she literally screamed out loud with pleasure. It was a sound he was more than happy to gobble up greedily into his mouth; and after that there was no hope of practicing any more restraint. Years melted and so did any trace of the bitterness they might have harboured. For the first time in a long time it was just them and this – and the freedom of it was like a drug. He'd almost begun to fear this was something he'd never have again; and for her this was a revelation, lust and desire and simple love coming together in one flawless and uncomplicated act. She'd spent so long dissecting their relationship that it amazed her that this could be so obvious, so undemanding.

They made love hungrily, wildly – and just when he thought he couldn't wait for her any longer she came, throwing her head back with a strangled wail, a paroxysm of ecstasy that had never failed to mesmerise him – Rogue at her most unapologetically and shamelessly sexy. In a matter of split seconds her orgasm had triggered his own, a blinding, bone-shaking climax that left him quivering when it was all over.

He was left blinking up at the ceiling afterwards, stunned that they were back here after what had felt like an age spent telling himself to just give up on her.

And as for Rogue… she sank into him with a contented sigh, resting her head against his shoulder and rubbing her lips tenderly over the curve of his neck. This was what it was like, to be true to herself, to reclaim herself, to be free. To be simply, deeply, in-love.

Neither had a clue where any of this would lead, but second-guessing the path ahead felt counter-intuitive. For once they were a simple thing – two people who loved one another, who had everything to play for and everything to gain.

She smiled and kissed his chest; he held her close and kissed her hair. For a little while they did nothing but breathe in the moment, the presence of one another.

For a little while at least, they were exactly where they needed to be.

Together.

-oOo-


End file.
